


To Have And To Hold (Onto)

by Mozzarella



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Blackwatch Era, Canon-Typical Violence, Dad Reaper | Gabriel Reyes, Fall of Overwatch, Falling In Love, M/M, Post-Fall of Overwatch, Pre-Fall of Overwatch, Secret Marriage, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-10
Updated: 2018-08-10
Packaged: 2019-06-25 08:52:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15637365
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mozzarella/pseuds/Mozzarella
Summary: Gabe and Jack got married during the SEP.Then, over the course of years, fighting a war, leading a world peace organization and standing united against any threat against them... they fell in love.“You're so useless,” Jack laughed, trying to keep the hitch out of his voice. “You know you're supposed to date someone before marrying them.”





	To Have And To Hold (Onto)

**Author's Note:**

> My short entry for the Reaper76 Big Bang! I loved working on this, and I absolutely adored the amazing art created by my partner artist for this piece, glitzbot on tumblr! The main art post can be found here: http://glitzbot.tumblr.com/post/176845569913/this-year-i-participated-in-the-reaper76bigbang

“Let's get married.”

 

Jack snorted, barely even able to lift his head as he eyeballed his roommate suspiciously from where he lay across the bed, too tired to get up on the top bunk (and boy did he regret taking top bunk when the injections started coming in) after their last round on the tables in medical.

 

Jack seriously considered pushing Gabe off with a foot, half-heartedly kicking the man in the shins before groaning, the bare movement of his head enough to make his brain feel like it was wine being swirled in a taster's glass.

 

“Shut up,” he muttered, his headache overshadowing the low thrum of warmth in his belly.

 

“I'm serious,” Gabe said, and Jack knew he would be laughing if he weren't gritting his teeth from the pain. For all that people seemed to fear his resting murder face, between the two, Gabe was always quicker to laugh than Jack was, finding most things funny that it took Jack a couple of tries to get.

 

“You're never serious,” Jack retorted, scratching at the patchy stubble that had begun to grow on his face after one too many nights and mornings exhausted from the treatments to care about general appearance.

 

Gabriel Reyes had been his CO for a year before the two of them had been chosen for the Soldier Enhancement Program, and in all that time John Morrison had genuinely believed Reyes was as much of a hardass as everyone knew he was. It wasn't until Reyes had recommended him for the program alongside him and brought the unfortunate nickname of Jack down on his head that Jack realized that everything Reyes ever said off the battlefield was a joke, delivered in perfect deadpan that left people so off-kilter that they couldn't call him out on it.

 

It became perfectly clear to Jack when they were made roommates, and he got to experience the full brunt of Gabriel's humor, from the pleasure he took from terrifying fellow recruits with a well-practiced crossing of arms and glare of pure, weaponized death, to the crap he spouted at one in the morning when neither of them could fall asleep, things like “Do you think omnics have to go to sex shops for enhancement or is that part of some upgrade package they get at the local tech store?”

 

The illusion of the most terrifying soldier in the SEP was pretty thoroughly shattered for one John “Jack” Morrison after that. If Gabe wasn't his best friend, Jack probably would have dropped the curtain for everyone else. There were perks to people thinking Gabe was a hardass, so sue him.

 

Gabe was quiet for a while, long enough that Jack had to look over at him suspiciously, waiting for the next joke.

 

“Next injection cycle's the last,” Gabe eventually said, sounding less sure than Jack had ever heard from him. “And the dropoff rate on that is massive. Survivability's low.”

 

Jack breathed slowly, waiting for Gabe to get to the point with fingers clenched around the rumpled sheets.

 

“I haven't been reacting to the treatments as well as you,” Gabe continued, and Jack opened his mouth to object, but Gabe seemed to sense this before he'd even started, and reached out to cover Jack's mouth with one large, calloused hand. “I haven't, and you know it.”

 

Jack freed himself from Gabe's grip. “Stop,” he said, biting the word out sharp.

 

“You're my best friend,” Gabe said, softer. “And the one guy I will always trust to have my back, no matter what. I don't expect to survive this, but I know you will, because you're strong, and the doctors have been fucking over the moon with how well you're responding to treatment. You're a sure thing, Jackie, and I'm a coin toss off the edge of a cliff with this. So on the off chance I survive... How about we get married?”

 

“You're so useless,” Jack laughed, trying to keep the hitch out of his voice. “You know you're supposed to date someone before marrying them.”

 

“Well goddamn, Jack, do you want me to go get you some flowers? Get down on one knee? Gonna make me jump through hoops for my final request, huh?”

 

Jack really did kick him off the bed, then, his yelp like a puppy's bark turning into a groan as he lay on the floor, not bothering to get back up. To be considerate, Jack kicked a pillow down on top of him as well, which Gabe slipped under his head and buried his face into.

 

“You're not gonna die,” Jack said, voice coming out harsher than intended.

 

Gabe sighed from his spot on the floor.

 

“We all die, Jackie. I know I am, anyway. Maybe you've got a future ahead of you. White picket fence, trophy spouse, 2.5 kids, a purebred that's ten times stupider than the average mutt chasing its own tail in the yard, the works. But whether I die tomorrow or on the battlefield, I know you'll be the one beside me when I do.”

 

Gabe let that hang between them for a while, and Jack could say nothing in response.

 

It was about one in the morning that Gabe pulled himself back onto the bed, and Jack reached out to clutch his hand, muttering a “fine” into the pillow that he knew Gabe caught when the man squeezed his fingers tight between his own.

 

[by glitzbot](http://glitzbot.tumblr.com/post/176845569913/this-year-i-participated-in-the-reaper76bigbang)

* * *

 

 

Since there was no way to check this for sure, Jack was about convinced that he was the only man in history to pine after his spouse.

 

It was unsurprising, given the state of their marriage, which, while not necessarily a sham, was done more as a “fuck you” to death more than any real grand romantic gesture. The fact that Gabe himself seemed blasé about the whole ordeal spoke volumes, and Jack wondered, at the brief touch of lips at the courthouse where Jack felt, for the first time, that he might actually want to kiss Gabe after the fact, if Gabe considered it no more special than literally anything he did before death could take him.

 

Gabriel Reyes was obsessed with death. It wasn't something he wore on his sleeve, and certainly not something most people knew about him, but he spoke of it more often than any other person Jack had ever met, asking Jack to play classic Lady Gaga at his funeral and claim he was mind-blowingly fantastic in bed.

 

Jack didn't truly fall in love with Gabe (or didn't realize it, at least) until they neared the tail end of the Crisis, eight years married and at each other's side on every mission, and sleeping in the same bed with no one the wiser. They were nothing more than brothers-in-arms to those who knew them, and while Gabe was more affectionate with Jack than he was before they carried each other's rings on their dogtags, it was more a result of years spent fighting together than the kind of love Jack grew up dreaming about, when he still dreamt about a better world beyond blood and war.

 

His revelation didn't come with any great victories, or world-ending calamities apart from the one they were living through. It wasn't anything like the romance films Jack secretly loved as a child, where he sat leaning into his mother on the couch back home in Indiana watching two omnics dancing onscreen and singing their duet in soft, electric croons reminiscent of mid-twentieth century cinema.

 

It was simply one morning, when for once an alarm hadn't woken them in the middle of the night, that Jack and Gabe made their way down to the mess to eat, so early that they and the cook were the only ones up. They sat across from each other at the edge of a long table, Gabe running a hand through the strangely soft locks at the top of his head, and Jack staring blankly at his hydrated powdered eggs before catching Gabe looking at him, his lips quirked in the subtlest of amused smiles.

 

“I can take that off your hands if you hate it so much,” Gabe had said, and Jack had smacked his hand away as he faked reaching for Jack's sorry excuse for scrambled eggs.

 

“Don't you fucking dare, Reyes,” Jack said, unable to keep the shake of laughter out of his voice, the last name tumbling out of his mouth easily when it was practically all they called each other by out on the battlefield.

 

“Do you one better,” Gabe said then, and he pushed a plate of tiny, coaster-sized pancakes with questionably artificial-looking chocolate syrup on them for Jack to share. And as Jack reached out with a fork to take one, he thought, clearer than anything he'd thought in a while, lost in the haze of battles and adrenaline-fueled survival: _I love this man._

 

He didn't even falter as he ate the pancake in three piddling bites, raising an eyebrow as Gabe looked to him for approval.

 

_...I love him. I love him so goddamn much._

* * *

 

 

Few people knew that Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes were married. Few knew that when they were in the SEP together, rooming together, Gabriel had asked Jack to marry him on the off chance he survived the trials and the experiments and the gene therapy wreaking havoc on his body. Few knew that Jack had agreed simply because, in the grand scheme of things, he was loyal enough to Gabe that being married to him would make little difference to their already close-knit partnership, and he would have agreed to literally anything in that moment if it meant Gabe would get out of it alive. 

 

And literally nobody knew that John “Jack” Morrison was hopelessly in love with Gabriel Reyes, who didn't feel the same way about him.

 

Probably.

 

Maybe.

 

It's not like he ever _asked,_ but Jack was all too aware of the way Gabriel was with family and friends he grew up with, those he knew outside of the SEP and outside of his military background. He was openly affectionate, warm and kind, his no-nonsense, clipped English replaced with a playful, low-register lilt in his native Spanish. It was a warm sound, a loving sound, and one that Jack had never heard when Gabe talked to him.

 

Sure, he was kinder to Jack than others, but that was a given. They were best friends and Jack was used to Gabe's hugs, used to the heat of him at his back when they slept side by side, more out of necessity now than anything else, since it seemed the only way to stave off shared nightmares.

But Jack had seen enough of Gabe's calls to home to know that there was a separation between them that didn't exist when it came to family and past friends. There was something missing, something that Jack craved, instead of the subtle, underlying hesitance that he could sense whenever Gabe wrapped arms around him or clapped a hand on his shoulder.

 

Like ten years of friendship hadn't stripped them of all pretenses.

 

Still, though... what they had? Jack wouldn't trade it for anything.

 

* * *

 

 

It was when the crisis was finally reaching its end, when the last of the omniums were shut down and their strike team survived, that things began to change. There were whispers of the brass establishing a world peace organization to deal with the fallout of the crisis, names thrown about as to who was a fit candidate to lead this organization, as if Gabriel Reyes hadn't won them so many victories that he might as well have saved the world all on his own.

 

“I have an amazing team,” Gabe would say when one officer or another congratulated him on a job well done. He'd look over to Jack, eyes twinkling enough that Jack could imagine the broad smile reserved for only him, hidden from these men who knew nothing of them but their victories. “I wouldn't have survived a day without them,” Gabe would go on, before making his way back to Jack's side, like Jack was the commander and he was his second and not the other way around.

 

When they finally found time for themselves, when Torbjörn came back, battered and bruised and bearing a working claw instead of a convincing arm like he said he'd get, they managed to put together a party of epic and irresponsible proportions, alcohol free-flowing and food delivered in massive boxes from the nearest local eatery still running despite most of the city being decimated.

 

The few surviving members of Gabe's strike team gathered around a single table, and Torbjörn rhapsodized about his wife and her cooking, a floating freezer of which he'd brought back for everybody. This brought them more joy than the end of their last mission, and Gérard called for a toast for their “claw man” and his lovely wife.

 

“You don't deserve her, Torby,” Ana laughed, to which Torjorn good-naturedly agreed.

 

“And what about you, Ana? You must be dying to see that boy of yours in Zurich!”

 

“He was still in Cairo last I spoke to him, but he promised me he'd travel there when we do. Fareeha does love flying, and Animkii tells me she's made a habit of befriending the pilots whenever he's had to move between cities. She's almost certainly more excited to see Reinhardt than me,” Ana said, smiling warmly into her drink.

 

“Ah, true love, such a radiant light to guide us home in such troubling times,” Reinhardt proclaimed, spilling some of his drink on Torbjörn, who tried to shove the larger man back in retaliation.

 

“I, for one, cannot wait to see my dear Amélie again,” Gérard sighed, looking uncharacteristically gloomy, before perking up again as he went on, “We're not all so lucky to have our spouses be our seconds in battle, eh, Commander?”

 

Jack near choked on his drink mid-sip, but Gabriel seemed unfazed as he raised a brow at Gérard before smiling wickedly. “Perhaps it's because my partner can actually stand to be around me for more than a few days at a time, Gérard.”

 

Gérard feigned getting shot in the heart, throwing an empty plastic cup at Gabe's head in retaliation as the other man laughed delightedly. Jack tried to hide his momentary disquiet behind a chuckle, before Gérard decided it was a good time to stand on his chair inebriated, clearing his throat to be heard over the buzz of conversation and laughter.

 

“A toast!” he said, nearly toppling over in his enthusiasm. “To our commander and his second, for always having each other's backs, being at each other's backs, being on their backs for each other, and so forth,” he went on, laughing merrily as Gabe shoved at his legs, this time actually toppling him over before he finished his speech on the floor, his glass still full in hand.

 

“For helping us believe in love in all things, such and such _conneries similaires_ , yes, now please kiss each other because we never see you do it and it's a myth at this point, like the Big Foot or Reinhardt's ability to not be dramatic for two seconds.”

 

“Here here!” Reinhardt said, one hand over his heart as if to emphasize Gérard's point, turning his toast to where Gabe and Jack sat side by side, Gabe looking mildly amused and Jack trying very hard to hide his horror.

 

“All right, all right, you degenerates,” Gabe said, flapping a hand in their direction. He turned to face Jack, who for all intents and purposes, looked just as amused by the whole situation, even as he felt himself shriveling up and dying inside. He gave Jack a look, the same kind he used to give him way back in the SEP, when they were sharing a joke that no others were privy to.

 

Whatever look Jack gave in return, Gabe's expression transformed into something Jack couldn't immediately read, but before he could decipher the look—warmer and sweeter than he ever remembered seeing from Gabe, and just a little sad—the man leaned in and slotted his lips to Jack, his beard soft but scratchy against Jack's chin.

 

It was the first time they'd kissed since their wedding, and it was nothing like the brush of lips, no more than a peck, from before.

 

This one was firmer, deeper, Jack opening his mouth to welcome Gabe's questing tongue, tasting the alcohol and something infinitely sweeter as Gabe pressed into him, Jack welcoming the contact, the warmth, the love he could feel coming off of his partner, his _husband,_ in waves.

 

And though it felt like it lasted forever, when they separated, it felt like it had barely been a second, almost like it never really happened, if not for the tenderness Jack felt on his own lips and the half-lidded gaze Gabe gave him, the saucy smile as he tapped Jack's cheek with a finger.. Jack could hear the buzz of noise, the whoops and cheers, returning to him in a daze, and Gabe was ordering Gérard to pour him another cup before Jack could say anything else.

 

 Later, when they returned to their rooms, Jack felt the need to voice the questions circling his head overwhelm him. “What was that?” he asked, and Gabe looked up from where he'd been lying on their rumpled bed, top of his hair mussed in a way that warmed Jack's heart with unbridled affection.

 

“What was what, Jackie?” Gabe asked cautiously, though the wary look in his eyes made Jack think he knew exactly what he was talking about.

 

“That, uh... in the mess... when you, uh, kissed me...”

 

Gabe shrugged, body language easygoing but eyes pensive.

 

“I thought you'd be alright with it. You _were_ alright with it. Can't I kiss my husband once in a while?” he said uneasily, tracking Jack for reactions that Jack hoped Gabe couldn't read transparent on his face.

 

“You've never before,” Jack said before he could think better of it, mentally smacking himself for sounding so vulnerable, like a neglected lover.

 

Gabe smiled, warm and soft. “You've never asked. I didn't think you wanted to, after...” Gabe sighed, running a hand over his face. “Listen, Jack. I know I forced you into this marriage thing, and I didn't want to ask too much of you. You never wanted it, but you never broke it off, so I thought... and tonight, I didn't want to make it seem like we were a sham, and I'm sorry I didn't ask before... But if you don't want that, if we need to break this off now, all you gotta do is give the go-ahead. No hard feelings.”

 

Jack stood, frozen in place, wondering for a moment if Gabe knew, if Gabe felt that Jack was in love with him in that kiss, but discarded the thought as immediately as he'd conjured it up. Gabe thought he'd forced him. Gabe thought he didn't want it, even if these days it was all he wanted, and then some. Gabe thought he'd want to break it off, and only because he didn't know Jack was more in love with him than he'd ever been in love with anybody, probably combined.

 

Squaring his shoulders, Jack strode over to the bed, stopping in front of where Gabe sat. The other man startled, looking up and up at Jack's looming form, and Jack couldn't stop to wonder what the look on his face must have been because he was leaning down and he his mouth was on Gabe's, slotted together as easily as they had earlier that night.

 

He pushed Gabe down, laid him across the sheets and nipped at the side of his neck, the man's overgrown beard scratching his nose, and Gabe grabbed him by the hair, firm but not painful, and pulled his face back up, stopping his progress to look him in the eye. Whatever he saw in Jack's expression must have told him everything he needed to know, because he pulled Jack in for another kiss, another of those breathtaking, heart-stopping kisses that they'd somehow become so good at in the span of two tries.

 

Jack couldn't even begin to tell how long they were at it. It felt like being drunk, even if logically their super-soldier enhanced bodies metabolized alcohol so fast that the buzz of a good sloshing would have disappeared an hour after consumption. But when they finally broke apart for air, and Jack rolled over on his side of the bed while Gabe lay on his back, eyes blown wide like he'd seen divinity, he said, “So I take it that means you're _not_ gonna break off the marriage,” and Jack could only laugh and laugh.

 

[by glitzbot](http://glitzbot.tumblr.com/post/176845569913/this-year-i-participated-in-the-reaper76bigbang)

* * *

 

 

When he first heard the words that would seal both their fates forever, all he could feel was cold dread. Like he knew what would happen in the end, even if at the time, he had no clue. All he knew was that Gabe wasn't in the room when the higher ups made the offer, which meant they truly believed they could run this by him without Gabe knowing.

 

This was, without a doubt, the most significant reason Gabe had for insisting they keep their marriage a secret.

 

With all the political machinations they now had to deal with, the subtle mind games that Jack had become better at maneuvering than Gabe, having cards close to your chest was never a bad idea, and Jack had never been more convinced of that than when the council that was sent to oversee them from the UN decided to offer John “Jack” Morrison the position of Strike Commander of the new Overwatch.

 

Again, with Gabe visibly absent from the room.

 

“May I have some time to consider?” Jack said, doing his best impression of an eager man trying to look like he wasn't eager, hoping it would fool people into thinking he had the kind of ambition that would happily step over his commanding officer. Judging by the looks on some of their faces, like hungry cats finding a nest of baby canaries, he was at least partly successful, though many of the members of the council were nigh unreadable until Jack was able to properly assess the playing field.

 

“How long do you need, commander?” asked Nuñez, and Jack shrugged, self-depreciating.

 

“Not too long,” he said, like he was sharing a joke, and he was dismissed with the kind of optimism in the room that he didn't feel.

 

* * *

 

 

“I know,” Gabe said when he told him, having snuck into Jack's quarters (their shared quarters, but ostensibly Jack's) with some very useful tools that temporarily looped cameras and kept Jack's code lock accessible to Gabe without recording its use. “It's definitely not ideal.”

 

Jack snorted, flicking Gabe on the nose. “Not ideal, he says. They're trying to promote me without your knowledge. The UN council is working against you and it's _not ideal._ ”

 

Gabe grabbed Jack's hand before he could swipe it away and nipped playfully at his fingertips, kissing his hand when Jack settled against his side.

 

“Not all of them. Katigbak told me about it before they called you in. Said I wasn't supposed to know, but that she wasn't comfortable with how they were going over my head about it.”

 

“Someone to trust, then?” Jack said, relieved.

 

“Someone who either doesn't want you as Strike Commander or wants to keep in my good graces, maybe,” Gabe said, shrugging. “Don't look at me like that. You know that trust is a luxury in this job, especially now that we're no longer working against simple omnic elements.”

 

“Yeah, I know,” Jack sighed. “S'why I let them think I was jumping out of my skin to get the job. But I wanted you to know, because I don't know how I can refuse without making them suspect I came to you.”

 

Gabe laughed, kissing Jack soft, full of a love he'd never actually spoken of out loud, but that Jack had about convinced himself that he was giving.

 

“You're too goddamn smart, Jackie,” he said, proudly. “Take the job. They won't just push me out—it'd look too bad. They'd have to bury me first, and if they don't know we're together then they can't have dug very far into my background. They don't have any dirt on me that isn't already military record. They'll probably offer me another job, slap an 'honorable' label on it, and expect me to comply. But with you in a command position at least I know our leader isn't screwing us.”

 

Gabe grinned. “Not that you aren't already doing that,” he said, and Jack shook his head, hitting Gabe's face with a pillow.

 

* * *

 

 

The “other job” came in the form of Blackwatch, what Jack knew would be crucial to the new Overwatch, and a political nightmare waiting to happen. Wars fought in peace time were never well-received, especially the kind that had to be hidden in order to keep up the facade of that peace. Jack had accepted the job, and got a statue in front of a new UN headquarters, while Gabe got shunted to the shadows for his troubles.

 

Not that Gabe seemed to mind. He took near everything in stride, his carefully built up reputation acting as a better deterrent to criminal elements than his actual methods, which were themselves nothing to scoff at.

 

Jack wasn't naive. Though there was no real need for torture in a fight against omnics, where information could be hacked as easily as intimidated out of informants and self-serving warmongers, he'd seen Gabe in action once or twice, his charm and wit just as sharp as the knives he had hidden under his tactical gear.

 

Gabe didn't need torture to be as terrifying as he was, but he had more of a stomach for the things Jack didn't. He could shoot a man clean through the head without flinching, order death on a mark or enact it himself with neither pleasure nor fear, be what Jack couldn't in the chaos that marked the aftermath of the omnic crisis, where human elements became an even bigger problem than before, anti-omnic sentiment spreading in so-called “peaceful” countries where the war had barely touched.

 

The only thing Gabe seemed to lament was the fact that his missions took him away from Jack. Jack, up to his ears in work that was too sensitive to yet delegate, could only agree. Ana was one he could trust to help him in these matters both on and off the field, but she was busy raising Fareeha while still training new recruits, attending to her own, equally important job on base, and Jack felt guilty for taking her away to deal with part of his mess.

 

Ana didn't seem to mind though, even pulling, with the help of her dear friend, former lover, and father of her child, Animkii, for a pocket of free time every so often for the Strike Commander and the Blackwatch Commander, his secret spouse. The first time it happened, Jack and Gabe had no idea what to do with themselves, and ended up having a long bout of wild sex in Jack's room (their shared quarters in all but name) after being away from each other for so long, piling snacks on the side table like they were teenagers again, watching crap shows on the holo and reveling in each other's company.

 

They planned better after that, writing mental lists of places to go and running it by each other in the private, unrecorded debriefs Gabe would give Jack after every mission.

 

One of their most memorable nights off happened about three years into Overwatch becoming official, what people were prematurely marking “the golden age”, which Jack privately thought invited challenge from the universe.

 

Gabe and Jack had had dinner away from the base, in a private booth, served by people Gabe trusted probably more than half the people in Zurich HQ.

 

“A toast... to bonds unbroken,” Gabe had said, uncharacteristically grave, and after they clinked glasses together, Jack pulled him over for a sweet, reassuring kiss, and Gabe looked almost surprised by the action, more so when Jack whispered “I love you, commander,” into his ear, lips brushing his cheek.

 

And when they sat back down, Jack eyed Gabe's odd expression and sighed. “Didn't you know?”

 

“I knew,” Gabe said, though there was an uncertainty in that statement that Jack had finally learned how to read.

 

“You thought, after all the time we'd spent together, kissing, making love, that I still considered it a... what, strong partnership?” Jack said incredulously, but he didn't feel the insecurity he knew he would have months prior, too giddy with the kind of all-encompassing love he felt for the man in front of him.

 

“... making love, huh?” Gabe said, his tone trying for teasing but ending up awed.

 

“Yeah, tactical genius,” Jack said, grinning. “Making love. Better step up, commander, you can't be leader with such faulty intel.”

 

Gabe snorted, reaching out to grab Jack's hand, lacing their fingers together, rings (migrated from neck to hand for their dinner) shining in the candlelight.

 

“I love you too, commander,” Gabe said quietly, reverently, much later in the peaceful silence of their meal. 

[by glitzbot](http://glitzbot.tumblr.com/post/176845569913/this-year-i-participated-in-the-reaper76bigbang)

* * *

 

 

Jesse McCree had been a strangely pleasant surprise, someone who spoke to Jack with disdain and anger in their first interactions, the disdain still ever-present even after Gabe had trained him not to sass a superior officer. He was a spitfire, a child that had long since been forced to be an adult, already much too burly and rough-featured for his eighteen years.

 

Gabe had had to fake his age in the reports when he was first recruited, bringing him up from seventeen, and Jack wouldn't have believed for a second that the hardened criminal spitting in his direction in the interrogation room was a teenager if he didn't trust Gabe on his word.

 

Gabe always saw the best in the worst people, which was what made him so perfect for Blackwatch, and he seemed to like this kid more than any other recruit he'd taken in before, something which baffled Jack at first.

 

McCree was irreverent, harsh and frank, cruel when he wanted to be, with a mean streak a mile wide and murdering men since he was a child. For a while, Jack couldn't see beyond that, an opinion shared by most others but Gabe. It wasn't very difficult to see that Gabe loved the young man, showed him the kind of affection that Jack had only seen him give to family.

 

It wasn't until Jack ran into him, almost literally, in the halls, being chased by the young Fareeha, who was wielding a disarmed plasma gun like she was a cowgirl in a Western, that he started to notice what Gabe already knew.

 

McCree took Fareeha so seriously that Jack worried he'd rub off on her, but it seemed to be exactly what the young girl needed, when her mother was trying so hard to keep her safe, away from the dangers Overwatch faced, while still exposing her to the bright, shining heroism seen in every corner of the Zurich base. Jack loved Fareeha, but he was admittedly at a loss for how to deal with her passion, her unerring wish to become an Overwatch agent which Ana wanted so badly to veto.

 

McCree had no qualms treating Fareeha like a friend and equal, even knowing she was a child, teaching her how to shoot when Ana was busy and happy to spend time with her when nobody else could.

 

As an agent, McCree also respected Gabe deeply, without question, which Jack took as a cue to trust the young man’s judgement. It meant, however, that for their first few interactions, Jack became the subject of McCree’s disdain and ire.

 

Word of their supposed animosity had spread to the public, something which Jack chose not to comment on—neither confirm nor outright deny, knowing that there was a benefit to people choosing to believe he and Gabe weren’t the closest two people on the planet. It was a delicate balancing act, with Jack ensuring those on base knew he trusted Gabe as his fellow commander, without cluing into just how much Jack adored him.

 

He pasted on his certified look of disapproval whenever Gabe came to him with another mission report, nobody able to parse the silent conversations they had with eye contact alone, and that seemed to affect Agent McCree personally, as proven one day, when said agent barged into Jack’s office in a rage.

 

“What in the hell is your problem!?” he’d yelled in a way that no trained officer would ever dare at a superior officer, but McCree was indeed as unique as Gabe (proudly) claimed.

 

“Agent McCree, I’m going to need you to lower your voice and speak to me in a professional manner,” Jack had said curtly, his mind working fast to get a feel of the situation, trying to figure out McCree’s issue and mitigate it early before he could escalate.

 

“Professional my goddamn pale a—”

 

The young agent was interrupted by Gabe slamming the door open, gripping McCree’s shoulder with bruising force.

 

“Hey. That’s no way to speak to your commanding officer.”

 

“You’re my commanding officer, boss. He’s just a gotdamn puffed up piece of—”

 

Jesse yelped as Reyes all but threw him into the nearest chair, the force nearly toppling both man and seat over.

 

Jack sighed, running a hand through his pale hair, already threaded through with premature whites. The job had aged him, and the only reason he hadn’t already gone out and gotten them dyed to hide the change was that Gabe had reassured him he liked what he called Jack’s “swan feathers”.

 

“What’s this about?” he asked, his voice steady and largely unaffected. Jesse seemed to take his tone as an insult, but Gabe kept him sitting with a glare.

 

“Pendejo has it in his head that you cut our funds and Blackwatch resources,” Gabe said, arms crossed and expression pensive.

 

“Which I did,” Jack reminded him carefully, eyeing Jesse for any more violent reactions.

 

“Which St. Pierre did,” Gabe corrected, “with Petras’ approval. Signed off by Commander Morrison while the entire UN Council breathed down his neck.”

 

“Real brave of the hero of the omnic crisis to roll over for the diplomats,” Jesse said sharply.

 

“It’s not about brave, Jesse. It’s about picking your goddamn fights,” Gabe said firmly. Jack said nothing, letting Gabe take over the conversation. “And knowing when and where to compromise so you can stand your ground later. Those diplomats may not know what it is to be out there, but Strike Commander Morrison does. And he wouldn’t cut us off if he had a better option. Diplomacy is an entirely different war, Jesse, one neither of us are equipped to fight. Jack’s got enough on his plate without idiot cowpoke barging into his office like he’s about to get assassinated.”

 

“But—”

 

“But nothing!” Gabe said, his voice near to shouting, but he reined himself in, squeezing the bridge of his nose between forefinger and thumb. “Jesse... Do you trust me?”

 

“You know I do, boss,” Jesse said, looking warily over to the Strike Commander like he was being judged. “More than anyone,” he added, to emphasize the point.

 

“Well Jesse, I don’t trust you more than anyone,” Gabe said, and Jesse’s face fell before Gabe continued. “I trust you implicitly. I trust you with my life, and you’re one of the few people I can count on one hand that I know will never betray me.”

 

Jesse seemed to settle at that, nodding absently, his eyes fixed on Gabe’s dark expression.

 

“But the man I trust most in this world, the man I trust more than anyone, is my husband,” Gabe said softly. “And when he does something I might not agree with, my first instinct isn’t to break down his door and demand answers.”

 

Jack’s eyes widened, surprised that Gabe would tell Jesse their secret, and perhaps more surprised that he hadn’t already. Jesse looked confused, looking between him and Gabe like the man had just switched to a language he hadn’t yet learned.

 

“Your—what, what’re you sayin’, boss? That this—that Strike Commander—”

 

Gabe walked over, pulling his dog tags out of his jacket, where his wedding ring hung, always concealed from anyone in observance. Jack sighed, pulling his own out, always hidden under the body suit, but always a comforting, if infinitesimal, weight against his chest.

 

“We’ve been married since before our strike team went up against the omnics,” Gabe said, thumb gently polishing its surface. “We’ve kept it under wraps because Jack learned early on that politicians and diplomats aren’t as easy to deal with as rogue omnics and a God AI. You have to learn to take everything you hear with a grain of salt, muchacho. You have to know who you trust in this line of work.”

 

Jesse looked pensive, his brows drawn together and something akin to shame crossing his face.

 

“I didn’t...” he began uncertainly, body half-turning towards Jack, as if trying to address him but not knowing how to do it without his usual anger or disdain. Jack almost wished he’d fall back on it, if only he didn’t have to see McCree so afraid to speak to him. “I didn’t know.”

 

“You do now,” Gabe said gently. “You know why?”

 

Jesse shrugged, turning back to Gabe and raising his chin slightly.

“Because I trust you,” Gabe said, and Jesse looked surprised, the weight of the secret suddenly dawning on his rough features. “You’re one of only a handful of people who know we’re married. That includes the old guard from the crisis.”

 

“...what about Petras?” Jesse asked, and Jack huffed a short breath.

 

“God forbid,” Jack said, and Jesse turned to him, attentive the way he always was with Gabe. “Nobody on the Council knows. Ana, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Gérard, they’re all sworn to secrecy. We have to maintain an illusion of a professional, if friendly, relationship for them to believe they can turn us against each other, or go above either of our heads.”

 

Jack turned fully to Jesse, looking him in the eye. “It’s been happening for years. They offered me the Strike Commander position without running it by Gabe, feeding on my ambition. They didn’t know I told Gabe right after the offer. Didn’t know he was my husband, didn’t know I told him everything, that my ambition would never trump my loyalty. Didn’t even know we slept together in the same bed every night, because we kept it that way. Our enemies aren’t just the ones you’re fighting on the field, Jesse. We have enemies right in our own home, and they may not be looking to kill us, but they can destroy us without lifting a single finger.”

 

“And that’s the war the Strike Commander is fighting,” Gabe said, “sitting up here on his ass in his gilded tower.” The words sounded amused, like an old joke. Probably one of Jesse’s jabs.

 

“Well, shit,” Jesse said emphatically, and Jack huffed out a chuckle. He sounded tired even to his own ears. “S’that why you’re going white so young?”

 

“See, Gabe? Even McCree thinks I look old,” Jack said, and McCree’s eyes widened comically, hands going up as if to backtrack.

 

“No, nah, I didn’t mean it like that, I mean just, it looks... dignified...” he tried, but Gabe threw his head back and laughed.

 

“Not what you said earlier.”

 

“Aw, come on, don’t—I wasn’t—I didn’t mean all that. I mean, I did, but I wasn’t... I didn’t know.”

 

“Jesse,” Jack interrupted, and Jesse obediently stood at attention, his face earnest and focused. “I trust you too, you know.”

 

Jesse’s whole demeanour softened. “I don’t deserve that,” he murmured.

 

“You do,” Jack said, wryly, “or you wouldn’t be standing here. I just want you to know that I’m grateful for your service... and your loyalty to Gabe. I’m glad he’s got someone like you watching his back on the field.”

 

Jesse looked stricken with some raw emotion Jack couldn’t name. In lieu of words, the young man gave him a perfect salute, looking like the trained soldier he was, even with his ridiculous hat and spurs.

 

When Gabe departed, kissing Jack’s knuckles before walking out the door, Jesse paused as Jack caught him by the shoulder on the way out.

 

“Take care of him,” Jack said softly, so that Gabe couldn’t hear. “There’s something... something’s going on among the higher-ups, and I don’t think things are about to get easier for you guys in Blackwatch. Just be careful, and watch Gabe’s back.”

 

Jesse nodded. “You got it, Commander,” he said, tipping his hat before taking his own leave.

 

* * *

 

 

When Gabe began to grow distant, Jack didn’t comment on it. Not because he wasn’t worried, but because he could see that his husband had worry deepening his brow every hour of the day, and Jack didn’t want to add to it by levelling accusations or demanding answers Gabe wasn’t ready to give.

 

He came back to their room so late that Jack would be asleep before he even arrived, something that was rare in the days when the Strike Commander was working from his office from dawn till dusk when he wasn’t meeting with the Council or checking on the progress of his troops.

 

Sometimes, even when he wasn’t on mission and Jack knew he was on base, he didn’t come back to their room at all.

 

If it was a security breach, some kind of risk to their secret, Jack knew that Gabe would have told him, to warn him if nothing else. So it wasn’t that anyone apart from their inner circle knew about their nights together.

 

Still, it seemed to be taking up much of Gabriel’s time, and probably part of the reason Jack didn’t comment on it was because he was too busy to bring it up anyway, and hoping that Gabe would open up about it before the six month mark.

 

Every kiss, every look, every tender moment they caught outside of the bedroom seemed poisoned by the anticipation of Gabe giving Jack the answers he wanted, but he waited. He was patient, as he’d learned to be when he dealt in the politics of human interaction. He didn’t want to use his tricks on his own husband, but it came as naturally to him as his leadership skills, or his ability to shoot.

 

It paid off, eventually, a little over the six month mark Jack had personally set for himself. If only it had felt more like a victory.

 

* * *

 

 

“I think there’s something wrong with me.”

 

Jack turned over, startled by Gabe’s shadow as he sat up on the edge of the bed, his shoulders raised like he was poised for attack.

 

When he turned to look at Jack, his profile cutting a harsh shape even in the darkness, Jack saw red flash in his eyes, so quick that it could have been an illusion, but even half asleep Jack couldn’t write it off when his own eyesight had always been so sharp.

 

“What do you mean?” Jack said. He wanted to deny it, but if it worried Gabriel enough for him to say so, it couldn’t just be nothing.

 

“It’s... It’s something I haven’t told you about,” Gabe confessed, running a hand over his face. “I had to have it checked before worrying you.”

 

Jack reached out, wrapping his arms around Gabriel’s middle and nuzzling into the small of his back, kissing the soft part of his skin beneath his ribs, where his belly began, the slight roll of fat curling over the hard plane of his stomach.

 

“What is it?” Jack said softly, holding Gabe tight and fearing the worst.

 

Gabe slowly, gently, took Jack’s arms off of him and pulled him into sitting, looking him right in the eyes.

 

And he changed.

 

Jack thought it was a trick of the light at first, but it seemed as though smoke and shadow was drifting out of the sides of Gabe’s closed mouth, and his black hair seemed to fade, the lines blurring with the shadows of the room. Jack gasped, and Gabe’s entire being was engulfed in the thick, black smoke, which was coming from him, from every orifice, from his _skin._

Gabe moved forward, and it was like he wasn’t there at all, drifting like nothing held him down, and though it looked as though he was leaning in for a kiss, his face drifted through Jack’s like it was nothing, and Jack felt the tears before he could stop them, a hitching sob escaping his throat as the black shadows seemed to coalesce quickly, reforming into his husband right in front of him.

 

“Jackie?” Gabe said, worriedly, and Jack couldn’t hold it back—he began to sob, reaching out and finally finding his breath when his hands wrapped around solid wrists.

 

“I’m sorry,” Gabe whispered when Jack buried his face into Gabe’s neck, breathing him in. The smell of smoke and death dissipated, leaving Gabe’s scent, and Jack took it all in.

 

“No,” Jack said through hiccupping tears he couldn’t seem to stop. “No, I’m—I’m sorry, I don’t know what’s—I don’t understand why I’m so—god, Gabi. What happened to you? Is this what—is this what you meant by something wrong?”

 

Gabe snorted, bringing Jack up to eye level and wiping his tears away with his thumbs, both hands framing Jack’s face in a soft, yet calloused cradle.

 

“No, actually,” Gabe said, unspoken apologies lining his eyes and furrowing his brow. “O’Deorain unlocked part of my genetic code and this was the result. It’s been a few months, I... I’ve been using it on missions, testing the extent of my ability.”

 

“You let that madwoman experiment on you?” Jack said, his tone colder for the realization that he _hadn’t even noticed_ that his own husband could literally turn to smoke.

 

Gabe didn’t look the least bit taken aback, or even offended. He just looked sad, and that was the worst of it. Jack shoved him away, getting up from the bed and pacing the length of their shared quarters—ostensibly Jack’s, with no trace of Gabriel in there that anyone might be able to take advantage of, apart from what the man could carry with him.

 

“I was dying, Jackie,” Gabe said on a sigh.

 

Jack grabbed the closest thing at hand—a desk lamp, it turned out, and threw it in Gabe’s direction, shattering it against the wall a good foot to the right of him. “Fuck you!” Jack yelled, his voice breaking. “You trusted Moira O’Deorain to help you but kept it from me!?”

 

“You have the weight of the world on your shoulders right now, Strike Commander,” Gabe said firmly, the last two words sounding harsher than the rest. “If I could find a way to fix it without adding to your burdens, I was very well going to before I showed you the outcome.”

 

“You know I’d drop everything for you,” Jack said, anger and desperation warring in his rough voice.

 

“That’s exactly why I didn’t tell you before,” Gabe said, his own voice raising. He rarely yelled when he was angry—his rages were always cold, calculated, and terrible in their quiet. This was... something else. “I will not be the reason you become compromised. Not with everyone trying to break you down, trying to take you—take you away from me.”

 

There was a damning shine to his eyes, but his entire demeanour was still so much calmer than Jack’s, who was shaking with a terrible energy, wanting to hurt and break but not wanting to put Gabriel in the path of his rage. Even if Gabriel was the one inciting it.

 

Jack stalked forward, with Gabriel sitting there calmly, ready to take whatever Jack would throw at him.

 

When their knees touched, they were so close, Jack fell to his, like a marionette with its strings cut. He fell so hard that his knees must have been bruised from the force, but he didn’t seem to care, pressing his cheek against the warmth of Gabriel’s thigh.

 

“What if I’d lost you before now?” Jack whispered, as Gabe’s hand rested on the back of his neck, carding through his white-and-gold hair. “What if something had gone wrong, and I would never know what happened?”

 

Gabe said nothing, so Jack continued.

 

“Please don’t shut me out, Gabe,” Jack murmured, and Gabe stopped, hand tensing on the back of Jack’s neck. His super soldier strength meant he could crush a man’s windpipe with one hand—Jack had seen it on the field once, during a particularly gruelling mission against dangerous human elements—but Jack felt safe under those hands. Safer than he felt anywhere else.

 

“I’m sorry, Jackie,” Gabe said, and though Jack couldn’t see it, he could hear the shake of Gabe’s usually steady tone, and feel tears fall cold onto the back of his ear, striping a path down to the side of his neck. “I’m sorry I kept it from you. I just didn’t want...”

 

He trailed off, forcing Jack to meet his eyes, willing him to finish.

 

“You remember. Back in the SEP, you were healthy as a horse and I was... well, I wasn’t exactly hitting the top ten on those survival rates,” Gabe began.

 

“But... but you got through it,” Jack said, confused. “You got better.”

 

“I got stable, yeah. But I was always coming in for checkups so there were no complications. They said that I was most in danger out of all the candidates that got through to the last injection cycle. I kept going back for years, before we ended the war and authority shifted, and the powers that be decided that if I wasn’t showing signs of those side effects the program talked about, I was in the clear. Then... maybe about a year ago... my cells started breaking down,” Gabe said, his tone darkening. “And I saw it happening right before my eyes, before I even got it checked. Ash from a mission I couldn’t get off my hands, when I rubbed my fingers together hard enough, more than a little dead skin began to fall off, all the way down to red layers before knitting back together. The pieces of me that I sloughed off turned dark, and I didn’t know what was happening. All I knew was that I didn’t want you to worry, not before I exhausted all my options.”

 

“Why not?” Jack said miserably. To his surprise, Gabe chuckled, tapping Jack’s chest where he knew his ring would be hanging.

 

“You kind of have a track record of doing insane things for my sake,” Gabe said fondly. Jack kissed his hand, but said nothing.

 

“It’s why I recruited O’Deorain. I needed someone who was flexible enough that she wouldn’t report it to the UN Council and accomplished enough to understand the research. She was able to use what limited data we had to stabilize my cells breaking down. Couldn’t stop them, but she could speed them up, and the regeneration along with it. So now I can disintegrate and reform my body at will. A nanite cloud that stores my genetic code and makes me nigh invulnerable on the field. At least for a short time. The practical applications were remarkable.”

 

“Does it hurt?” Jack asked. Gabe looked startled by the question, but his smile was tender when it came.

 

“No, actually.” He raised a hand and Jack watched it disintegrate and reform, quick as any movement. “Well, to be more accurate, it hurts the first half second when my skin starts disassembling. But my pain receptors go just as fast, so it’s hardly anything to worry about. I’m always amazed when I come back together and I’m still me, but... this is fine,” Gabe said, his smile showing teeth, and then part of his cheek showing muscle, so quick that Jack might have thought it was a trick of the light if he didn’t already know.

 

“There’s something else, though,” Gabe said, his tone turning serious. “What I said... when I told you there was something wrong.”

 

Jack nodded, gesturing for Gabe to continue.

 

“It’s... I’ve been having headaches. Nothing I ought to be having with a nanite cloud body, but... Marlena, the omnic medic they have posted for Blackwatch, she told me that what I was describing sounded like signal interference. When outside forces try to... hack into omnic systems, but can’t because of all the safeguards. O’Deorain thinks it’s nothing, but she either doesn’t know enough about omnics to confirm it or she’s lying to my face. Not that I didn’t expect that to happen.”

 

Jack’s hand clenched, but he willed himself calm, eyeing the broken lamp on the floor.

 

“So you’re saying...”

 

“Someone might be trying to take advantage of my nanotech,” Gabe said grimly. “Not successfully, mind. Not yet. But who knows what kind of resources they have? They might find someone who can tap into them. I’ve opened myself to attack, and you with me.”

 

“What do we do about it?” Jack said. “And don’t you dare say _keep away from each other_ because I will punch you so hard you won’t remember how to put your jaw back together,” he added when Gabe raised an eyebrow, about to say something Jack already knew would be stupid.

 

Gabe laughed at that, dragging Jack in for a deep, passionate kiss.

 

“We’ll figure it out?” he said quietly, resting his forehead against Jack’s.

 

“Yeah,” Jack said. “Together.”

 

* * *

 

**AFTER**

 

Years after the Fall, Reinhardt Wilhelm was asked to interview on the anniversary for a “Where are they now” segment the channel wanted to do for Overwatch members who were deactivated after Petras shut everything down.

 

Reinhardt was a fantastic storyteller, recounting the days of glory with a twinkle in his eye that had audiences eating out of his hand. Though many were of the opinion that Wilhelm was a few screws looser than his years serving as the Crusaders’ poster boy, they were swayed by his genuine love and nostalgia for his team, his friends, his family.

 

“Why, even now I am accompanied by my dear goddaughter, Brigitte Lindholm, who is the daughter of the hero of the omnic crisis, Torbjörn Lindholm. She is a fine young woman, and a great mechanic, and the best of squires for an old knight like me!” Reinhardt boomed. The interviewer and host took this opportunity to jump on the topic of old friends, segueing into questions about the Old Guard.

 

“You worked with commanders John Morrison and Gabriel Reyes back even before the establishment of Overwatch, didn’t you, Mister Wilhelm?”

 

Reinhardt seemed to look off-camera for the briefest of moments, his eyes sharper than anyone would expect to see on the jolly man. Brigitte Lindholm shifted nervously in her seat as the man returned to his usual, candid self, though those who knew him well—like Torbjörn, who was watching the proceedings from the periphery of his vision on a holoscreen from his workshop back home—could see the tactician’s mind working behind those smiling eyes.

 

“Absolutely! The commanders, they were the best men I’d ever known. Men I trusted truly to have my back on a battlefield, when omnics controlled by that despicable God AI were raining hellfire upon our heads.”

 

“I remember reading history pads about your team,” the host went on, looking genuinely interested. “How Morrison was a great field commander, and—”

 

“Oh, what foolishness they must be writing in these books!” Reinhardt boomed, and the host seemed surprised, leaning back slightly.

 

“It was Gabriel Reyes who was our field commander. Jack, and you know, Gabriel gave him that name—Jack, he hated it at first, but soon you couldn’t get him to respond to John at all, he was Jack to all his friends and loved ones—and well, Jack didn’t have the kind of field experience that Gabriel Reyes had. Commander Reyes was a great leader, kept us all safe and got us through the crisis with nothing more than scars. Jack was his second, our field medic on the ground when Ana Amari—gods and spirits bless her soul—was watching us from her sniper’s perches, too far to give aid. This was before the biotic technology the wonderful Angela Ziegler developed, so while Gabriel kept us alive by keeping us on our toes, Jack was the one to patch us up when we were in the middle of a firefight.”

 

Reinhardt slumped in his chair, looking pensive. “Those two... they were the greatest of teams, and even greater friends. When you had those two back to back, you knew you could face anything and live to celebrate at the end of the day.”

 

“What happened, I wonder, since that time... to result in, well,” the host said, an image of the burning Zurich base appearing behind them. “If they were so close, what tore them apart?”

 

“Nothing,” Reinhardt said, mournful and angry in equal measure. Audiences went deathly silent, listening to his next words with bated breath. Torbjörn sighed from his place in his workshop, putting his tools down to watch Reinhardt’s serious expression fill the holo’s screen.

 

“What you heard, of their... feud. Their division. All were lies,” Reinhardt said. He was no longer jovial, but his voice still rang clear across the studio. “No two men trusted each other than those two. Whatever it was that caused Overwatch to fall, it was not them. And the stories, those rumours of their conflict, after all that had happened... Filthy lies. Outside entities working to tarnish their legacy, after they gave everything to protect the world.”

 

Some of the audiences could see an AD signalling to the show’s host, call on hold in one hand and other hand gesturing to cut the feed, but the host eyed the camera operators and gave a minute shake of the head, ignoring the signal and listening just as intently to Reinhardt’s impassioned, yet subdued speech.

 

“How can you be sure?” the host asked softly, a nudge for the man to continue. Reinhardt smiled a sad, solemn smile, showing the wisdom of his years, that which people seemed to forget in the face of his fantastical stories and larger-than-life demeanour.

 

“Because they loved each other,” Reinhardt said. “To the bitter end. And those who believe they would work against each other, instead of together, well, they never knew them at all.”

 

In a remote bar in Cairo, a scarred man with snow-white hair took a deep drag from a warm whisky, as hero of the omnic crisis, Reinhardt Wilhelm, spoke in auto-translated Arabic of the virtues of his former commanders.

 

* * *

 

They didn’t see it coming. Gabriel Reyes cursed himself for being so shortsighted, for thinking they had more time. For thinking that his gut feeling and distrust of Petras could be attributed to his disposition against slimy politicians and diplomats, and not a _real threat._

He’d known all along that there was something wrong, something corrupt, within their ranks. He knew from the moment Gérard was confined to a hospital bed and multiple agents were killed in the attack in Oslo. He knew when Amélie Lacroix had been kidnapped by Talon (but never could he have predicted what they did to her, not in his life).

 

And he knew the moment he began to lose time, finding himself in places he wasn’t before, waking up as if from a living sleep, that he himself had become compromised. He warned Jack to take him down if it came to that, gifting Jack with a failsafe he’d taken from Mercy’s stocks, which were specifically designed to interrupt the nanites she used in her biotic fields, the technology on which Gabe’s enhanced biology was based on.

 

But still, he was too late, and he knew he was when he blinked to wakefulness to find Jack training a gun on him in the Strike Commander’s office, Mercy’s failsafe in one hand and a hard look in his eyes, which immediately softened when he saw Gabe’s own face take on regret and fear.

 

Gabe pulled Jack’s gun to his head, willing him to pull the trigger, but Jack instead locked the weapon and dropped it to the floor, rushing Gabe and hugging him tight enough to bruise ribs.

 

“Something’s happening,” was all Jack could get out before the first explosions rocked Zurich base.

 

* * *

 

**AFTER**

 

No one knew who the Soldier was, the one who infiltrated Helix Security, defunct Overwatch bases, and thwarted Talon at every turn. Nobody but a choice few on the Talon Council seemed to have any clue, but nobody at all seemed to want to share their thoughts on the matter, so long the Soldier was dealt with.

 

Akande Ogundimu, recently returned from imprisonment, knew exactly who the man was, and he would tell no one on the Council, no answers for the leaders nor their sycophants that had made Talon lose its purpose.

 

He did, however, suggest sending their pet mercenary, Reaper, out to find the Soldier and capture or kill him. He knew that whatever programming had pushed Gabriel Reyes to destroy Overwatch from the ground up might generate the kind of chaos a reunion between Overwatch’s two greatest commanders inevitably would, the two battling against each other in a war nobody noticed but those who knew what lay beneath those masks.

 

Reaper was able to track the man down in Cairo, but that mission had failed due to the intervention of a third party—the elusive Shrike—and Reaper was given more chances to find the man in Dorado, tracking him for Talon’s sake.

 

When he went off the radar, few thought to question it. Reaper had been their best asset on the field for years, and the loyalty Lacroix showed was mirrored in Reaper’s programming, even if his personality was never as subdued as the brainwashed sniper’s.  He’d gone off-grid before, on other missions, and returned to report his findings later, when all was said and done.

 

* * *

 

 

In a dingy bar in Dorado, two men sat, shoulder to shoulder, sharing a drink. A younger woman in purple sat at the end of the bartop, perched precariously on an unbalanced stool, watching the proceedings with naked fascination. It was blessing enough that she was keeping out of the conversation, silent as the two men murmured to each other over matching glasses of cheap whiskey.

 

“Well what about Palawan? The beaches, the reefs. I’ve always wanted to go there. Never been diving,” said one, his hair like swan feathers mussed on top of his head, scarred face stretched into a smile that looked rare, the way the skin struggled to pull.

 

“I want to go somewhere cold,” said the other, his voice scraped raw, but unusually gentle. There was the barest hint of smoke coming from between greying lips, if anyone was paying attention. “Somewhere quiet. No people, just us and some snow and... Pine trees.”

 

“Pine trees?”

 

“Whadya got against pine trees? I grew up in California, I want to see where that shit grows naturally.”

 

“Fine, fine. Somewhere with snow and pine trees. We’ll put that on the list.”

 

They were chuckling by the end of it, before the white-haired man pulled something out of his shirt, to which the other said “No. Not yet.” He curled a hand around the other’s fist, securing the two rings in his grasp. “Hold onto it. Keep it safe for me. I don’t want them to have any opportunity to get it when I’m not... not fully myself.”

 

Breaking the moment was the last thing Sombra wanted to do, but she couldn’t keep Gabe out of Talon’s grasp forever.

 

At least she knew there was something stronger keeping Gabe together than Talon’s programming.

 

Jack went on, his laughter soft and fragile sounding. “Well once we go on that honeymoon we never got to do—”

 

“And whose fault is that—”

 

“You’d better be wearing yours. You can’t get out of this one.”

 

Gabriel Reyes softened, kissing Jack Morrison’s knuckles, the veins on the back of his hand, with reverence and tenderness.

 

“Never. If death couldn’t part us, nothing could.”

 

“Kind of comforting, seeing as you’ve been trying to die on me since day one.”

 

Gabe laughed, so much of what he used to be shining in that smile that Jack felt his heart clench.

 

“Well I’ve got someone worthwhile to hold onto,” Gabe said.

 

 

[by glitzbot](http://glitzbot.tumblr.com/post/176845569913/this-year-i-participated-in-the-reaper76bigbang)

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE GIVE ALL THE LOVE AND APPRECIATION TO THE AMAZING AMAZING ARTIST, GLITZBOT, ON TUMBLR:   
> http://glitzbot.tumblr.com/post/176845569913/this-year-i-participated-in-the-reaper76bigbang


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